Dissolve
by Soul Under
Summary: AU. You'd be so perfect with me, but you just can't see. You turn every head, but you don't see me. Shizaya.
1. shame

AU.

Note:** This will be Shizuo/Izaya**

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. . . d i s s o l v e . . .

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**such a shame**

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There is no saying just when exactly it all began, because Shizuo himself doesn't even know. This sick little habit that reigned as his favorite past-time; sucking up all of his attention like a vacuum to clear out all but his ever growing obsession. A flick of the blinds and a turn of the head; watching, wanting – enticed by a stranger so far from him. It's a testing little game in which the cat watches the mouse but never makes a move to engage.

It's all blatantly clear that this isn't something anywhere close to being healthy, with all things considered, but at the same time, it's not like he's hurting anyone. No, that's a lie – he _was_ hurting someone. Albeit indirectly; he knows of someone who is being hurt, someone who is in obvious pain, yet he hasn't done a goddamn thing about it.

It isn't his business. It doesn't concern him. He's like a pathetic form of a stalker. And fuck it, they've never even exchanged _names_. He's just a stranger. That's all; yet he can't stop thinking about it. Can't stop looking at him, looking for him – hoping to catch a mere glimpse of that beautiful, sad face.

The reasons for his choice in not acting are all piled up and listing on and on, simple covers in the form of excuses. Always explanations to justify as to why he shouldn't, why he _couldn't_ – if only to make himself feel better about the matter. Of course, it did nothing of the sort. He still felt guilty as hell; felt like a waste of human skin for his lack of action in this particular situation.

He should have done something long ago; but he still hasn't.

It all started by accident, really. It was just one of those cases that someone happens upon by mere coincidence alone. An act of chance; if he were anything bordering on a romanticist, he would have seen it as an act of 'fate'.

Back then, at the time, Shizuo had been in front of his apartment building with a trash-bag in his hand, making his way towards the dumpster to pitch it. It was a bit dark and aphotic outside; the kind of atmosphere where the sky was a heavy and intimidating shade of gray, yet the downpour of rain had yet to happen, but you knew it was only a matter of time. Being that it was early spring; the amount of rainy days had steadily been increasing over the past few weeks, and it was still in the procession between between seasons, thus making the air a pleasant cool.

Out front of his apartment building, heading casually towards the dumpster, Shizuo couldn't stop his eyes from being drawn over to the other side of the wet and dingy city street – to the building opposite of his own – where there sat a lone individual on the steps to the entrance.

Slightly spiky sable hair upon a lowered head; the other male had his face pressed into his arms which were folded over his knees. His state of dress was rather simple; indigo-blue, long-sleeved shirt with the material stretched and tugged over his hands, with a pair of dark gray dress pants. Nothing outwardly striking; the guy wasn't flashy nor unusual, yet Shizuo couldn't tear his gaze away from the obviously distressed form. Was the guy hurt? Crying, maybe?

Furrowing his eyebrows with a bit of reluctance, the blond tossed the bag into the trash before he fell silent and still; watching from the opposite side of the street. It wasn't a particularly busy area, and it's pretty rare for a car to pass by. He lived in the backstreets of the shittier side of town.

It took a few long moments for build up the courage, but after seeing the brunet hug his arms a bit tighter around his thighs, Shizuo gave in as he moved to cross, drawing in the distance between them if only to abide by his own curiosity.

"Hey, are you alright?" Shizuo asked while making a heavily conscious effort to make his voice sound smooth and nonthreatening. His social skills have never been up to par.

The simple words alone made the brunet lift his head, if only accompanied by a small flinch. Shizuo's eyes widened at the sight of the other males face; a sort of classic beauty tainted only by the dark purpling bruise that decorated the side of his cheek, where it spread just underneath one scarlet colored eye. In addition to the obvious injury, the brunet sported a small split in his lower lip. Shizuo had to blink a couple of times to suppress the images that came to mind; hurt, blood, pain – push it back. Focus. Don't show off your inner crazy.

Letting out a small, shaky sigh, the darker male tightened his fingers on his legs, as he looked down with something akin to a guilty expression.

"Yeah," he started, and Shizuo couldn't help but be entranced by the smoothness of the strangers voice. "I'm okay. Just fell out of bed this morning... hit my face on the night-stand..." The last bit was murmured, and the blond's earlier suspicions were eradicated by the way that the brunet's eyes were completely dry. He was obviously upset about something, but he wasn't crying. That was a start, in a way.

"Sounds painful," Shizuo conceded with the barest forms of a smile. His nerves were shaking inside; a jumbled mess that was threatening to show itself. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bruising on the darker males cheek – of the thoughts it brought up. _Don't think about it._

The brunet looked down at the words, his fingers gripping tightly at the sleeves he had pulled over them.

"Yeah," was all he said, quietly.

Shizuo couldn't deny the feeling of sadness that enveloped him at that moment; standing before this beautiful stranger whose face was so fucking _heartbreaking_. He didn't say anything for a moment, and the stranger lifted one of his hands to thread through his dark hair as if he were becoming frustrated. Shizuo's gaze immediately zeroed in on the flash of the man's wrist that had shown as his sleeve slipped down. Just as he thought; there were more bruises under that shirt, and the brunet was trying to hide them.

"...Okay," Shizuo started, albeit a bit awkwardly. "...um, alright. Bye." He turned to walk away with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his cheap jeans, but he barely made it a few steps away before he slowed to a stop and turned.

There was a good five feet between them now, and the stranger stared up at him from the distance; red eyes glinted with a sort of hint of knowledge that Shizuo didn't understand. The blond wanted to open his mouth and call him out; say that he can clearly see that those finger-print bruises were not the result of a morning scuffle. There was blatant foul play with all of this.

"I can help you get bandaged up, if you like. I just live right there," Shizuo informed, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the apartment building behind him. The sable haired stranger gave a rather sad smile at that; it looked practiced, worn, and it he seemed anything but happy.

"No, that's alright," the brunet rejected with a small sigh. "...I already have someone to fix me up. He's... actually waiting for me, so I should probably go."

There was a small silence at the monotone response; and Shizuo was caught up on the fact that the brunet said 'he'. He wondered; who was it then? The man looked young, just over twenty or so – making him close to Shizuo's own age – which therein left the possibility of a boyfriend. It was so easy for him to read into it all; see the hidden truth marked behind hardly spoken words.

He didn't need the stranger to say it outright, because he could tell just by looking at him. He easily recognized the signs; after all – he'd seen them all once before.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Shizuo gave a small nod in acknowledgment, but the stranger on the steps had yet to move. Despite what he had said; he didn't really look to be in any hurry to go back upstairs, and Shizuo didn't blame him. He understood why.

Those red eyes pinned him; a silent form of consent that left him enticed. It was like the brunet was trying to tell him something – silent and pleading, but he didn't dare speak it. The scarlet gaze seemed so strong and intense despite the situation; put together and intelligent, and the only thing that would throw one off would be the markings on ivory skin.

There was a mutual confirmation from both parties – Shizuo knew what really happened, and the stranger could see that. Neither confronted that aspect with their words.

"Yeah, it's going to start raining soon," Shizuo started, if only to break the silence that had fallen between them.

The brunet flicked his eyes up at the dark sky at that, remaining still for the barest of moments before he caved with a heavy sigh. The air was beginning to feel thick and moist with the spring weather, and the blonds words reigned the truth. Moving the stand up, he brushed off his pants and raised his gaze to meet the other before him.

"...See you."

Shizuo had to swallow heavily at the quietly spoken words; it was hurting him so much, and he knew why. It was like watching his life play on repeat, though he dared not compare their situations. It was too condescending for him.

"Hey," Shizuo started; catching the stranger just as he turned to head back into the building. "If you ever... want to talk about anything... you know – you can come to me. My apartment number is 11D. On the fourth floor."

Something akin to a smirk crossed the brunets mouth as he let out a slightly scoffing sigh. Lower his face away for a moment with his back still turned on the blond, he shook his head before he voiced his response.

"That really won't be necessary, stranger."

The door the building snapped shut with a hollow 'click' as the brunet disappeared inside, leaving Shizuo standing on the pavement with a slight look of distress and worry. He fought with himself for a moment as if he were unsure whether or not to pursue, but he backed off with a bit of reluctance.

It wasn't his business, and he had no right to go and be invading; but that didn't stop his concern. He didn't want to see this guy get hurt, the knowledge of the brunet's abuse alone was enough to scape him raw. It all hit much to close to home.

Lifting a hand to ruffling at his shaggy blond hair, Shizuo's frowned in thought as he stood alone on the side of the street; pavement wet from the day's earlier storm. The street-light's clicked on around him as rain began to drizzle; the sun ranging on it's time to set, and he took it as a sign that he should probably go get inside.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh – one that was mostly directed at himself; Shizuo turned around and headed back to his own apartment building.

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It's been nearly two weeks since that day; and the ache has never felt more real.

A sharp gasp emits through the quiet still of the apartment; and Shizuo quickly sits up in his bed, sheets twisted about his legs and his pillow is laying on the floor. He braces an arm on the mattress behind him, as his chest heaves with quick and heavy pants, and he has to lift a hand to press at his eyes. Has to block the images out.

He hates to sleep because he hates nightmares. Always a constant repeat of the past that's jagged and moved to scare him even further into himself.

Dark orange illuminates his bedroom; spilling in through his window and cutting the darkness. It's not that bright yet, but a deft glace at his alarm clock informs him it's barely even 6am yet. He's used to waking up early; used to the fact that his first emotion of the day is usually fear.

It's the kind of morning that's so quiet it makes you want to cry. He wakes up alone; no one to face after he shuffles out of bed and the ticking of the kitchen clock is his only companion. There's so much silence and it _hurts._

Once he's in the living room with the blinds pulled open, Shizuo tells himself not to feel bad for doing this; tells himself that he's just concerned, if not fascinated. As always, the light is on in the apartment across from him, within the building opposite his own. Most of the windows are dark, but there is one particular that is lit up, like usual.

It's sad to say; but he has the schedule down perfectly. Every morning 'boyfriend' gets up for work at around 5am, and the brunet 'stranger' he'd met before gets up to make breakfast and prepare for the day. Boyfriend is always a bit bitter in the mornings; judging by his movements, and he has the tendency to spit out cutting words that more often than not, leave Stranger quiet with an masked hurt.

Stranger will give shaky smiles when in the presence of Boyfriend, but the moment he's alone he'll fall apart almost instantly. Leaning on the nearest object for support; hands pressed over his face – but Shizuo knows he's not crying.

He's watched the daily on-goings ever since he first saw the man that day on the steps; and he's never once seen the brunet cry. Even when Boyfriend is gone, and Stranger is alone in the apartment.

Shizuo once witnessed Boyfriend slamming the brunet's face into the refrigerator. Stranger's reaction after the older man stalked out was to just lean forward on the sink for a few long moments, before doing the dishes.

The man is incredibly strong; and Shizuo envy's him of that.

Shizuo is strong in the physical sense; he goes to the gym daily – works on his muscles because he's never going to be a fucking victim again. Stranger, on the other hand; is skinny and small, and obviously doesn't have much in that category. But the man is nearly unbreakable with his mind and emotions. It's easy for Shizuo to fall apart; fuck, he does it on a daily basis.

He couldn't deny the sense of admiration he'd feel when watching the brunet be so collected.

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TBC

i really like this one.

please review and tell me what you think. its what keeps me updating.


	2. lost

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**i lost myself again**

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Shizuo hates days that start out like this.

Running fingers through bleached blond hair as he clicks open his email on his laptop from where he sits alone at his tiny kitchen table. Shizuo's hand freezes over the scroll pad for the briefest of moments, and he hold his breath with a baiting decision. There are a few spam letters; but there's one at the top of his inbox that his eyes can't seem to stray from.

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_Heiwajima Kasuka - (No Subject)_

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A single name is all it takes for him to want to go lock his front door and hide away from the world. A single name reigns as the biggest reminder of them all; a simple thing to make the guilt eat him alive all over again. Taking a deep breath as if to steady himself; Shizuo opens the email with great reluctance before he reads, slowly and carefully.

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_Hey. _

_I don't know your new number, or if you even have one. I wanted to know how you're doing, though. I haven't heard anything from you in almost three years, though I get why you did what you did. _

_Running away doesn't make you a coward, however, I really don't understand your need to avoid me, brother. You could have called me at any given time, emailed, anything... but you still haven't. I had to check the obituaries just to make sure you were still alive. I don't even know where you are, or even if you're still in Japan, for that matter._

_If you don't want to answer me, that's alright. I understand. _

_But I do miss my brother._

_Kasuka._

_.  
_

The laptop closes with a soft 'click' and Shizuo is left staring at the device with an unreadable expression. He knows for a fact that he's not going to reply to the email. He's gotten similar ones about every six to eight months since he first left; and he has no intention of re-establishing the past. He needed to kill off every reminder. Block it out – push it back. Pretend it never happened. He's simply not strong enough to face those factor's just yet.

Lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, he lets out a sigh before he raises his head and locks his attention on the window before him. The perfect one-way view towards his forever rising obsession.

The lights in the apartment across from his own are dark, something that makes him frown for a moment in curiosity. It's ranging on 7am – the sun has rose, but looking through those windows; all of the rooms are shadowed an vacant. It was unusual in the sense; the brunet Stranger doesn't leave the apartment too often, something Shizuo chalked up to the fact that his Boyfriend must be – obviously – possessive and controlling, given his body language and actions.

Shizuo doesn't blame him for being scared to leave. He was like that once, too.

A small breathy laugh passes his lips as he shakes his head, sadly. He wasn't like that once – he's _still_ like that. Still having to push himself to go out; to interact with other people. He can do it; but not without the onset of anxiety and tension. _Fucking pathetic._

Raising from the kitchen table, he stretches his arms over his head to get out the kinks, and takes a moment to look down at himself. A cheap white tank top with some ripped up, faded blue jeans, and he's sure his hair looks just as mussed as ever from the way he constantly runs his fingers through it.

Shrugging the thought, Shizuo grabs up his cigarettes from the counter, and pockets them along with his lighter. He needs to get out this morning, go somewhere – anywhere. Just away from his apartment. Away from any reminders and away from himself.

He doesn't have to be at work until later on in the afternoon; and he's never been the type to go out during the day. He's too much locked within himself – too uninterested in the outside world. He's seen enough in his life to not want anymore experience. A quick glance at the dark windows of the apartment opposite of him as he's making to grab up his shoes; Shizuo wonders if the Stranger feels the same way.

Grabbing his keys; he makes sure to lock the door before heading out. Once he's outside with the calm, early morning chill, Shizuo is once again stuck with the sense of peace. He hates it; it's almost hypocritical in a way. He always piles on reasons as to why he can't go out; why he can't enjoy a simple walk – but the moment he steps outside, his tension uncoils and the fresh air is rejuvenating. He won't remember just why he avoids the world until the streets become crowded, and people go about their day.

He loves the world; but people piss him off. They make him feel on edge with a bordering anger for no reason. He can count on one hand the number of people that don't bother him at all; and he tries not to think about how sad that thought is.

Shizuo glances down his street as he taps tugs out a cigarette; there's no one out at this time of day. Everyone is either at work or school; and it's a reminder as to why he loves mornings to much.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his old, worn jeans; Shizuo walks moodily after he lights up, and takes an inhale. He has no destination in mind, but he thinks about going by his work; if only to surround himself with the peaceful atmosphere he enjoys so much. The store doesn't open until 10am, but he has a key to get in the back.

The pay isn't much; but he's been working at the same book store for going on a year and a half – he's not much of a reader, but it's the only place in which he doesn't have to deal with people too much. Those that come in are typically the quiet type anyway; so he doesn't have to be annoyed by constant speech and pointless bullshit.

A few turns on set automatic, having walked the direction so many times before; Shizuo finds himself on the retail strip, lines of stores one after another cramped into one long street. His steps are casual and he chews thoughtfully on his cigarette for a moment before he finally raises his eyes from the sidewalk. He nearly trips over himself as he looks up; movements coming to a full stop.

Less than a meter before him stands the form of the man he's kept his eyes on these past two weeks. The brunet is standing before the book shop Shizuo knows wouldn't be open yet, and his stance is that of someone brooding.

The Stranger is dressed in the same type of monochromatic clothes Shizuo typically sees him in; dark gray long sleeved shirt with a pair of black jeans. The only thing that stands out is the deep red scarf wrapped around his neck, and the blond can't help but frown at that. It may be a bit chilly outside with the spring weather; but it wasn't cold enough to warrant that material.

Swallowing his own anxiety, Shizuo holds his cigarette down at his side as he moves forward to the brunet that's kept him enticed these past couple of weeks.

"The book shop doesn't open for another three hours," he says, and nearly has to slap himself with how awkward he sounds.

The brunet stiffens at the voice, sharply turning to set his bold red gaze on the blond who approaches him with a bit of caution. A sense of recognition sparks, but there's nothing friendly about him this time around.

"I know that," the stranger scoffs as he lifts a hand to point at the sign plastered on the inside of the glass; the time schedule. Right.

Shizuo doesn't let himself get deterred by the others rather moody disposition; he knows more about this man than the other realizes. He's watched him everyday for over two weeks, now, and his growing interest has yet to be rivaled. The brunet gives him a very slight glare for a moment before turning away to continue walking on.

Not put off by the movement; Shizuo quickly joins at the stranger's side and tries not to notice the way the others fingers tighten into fists at his sides, as they walk in tune.

"Why are you following me?" The darker man asks; his tone showing obvious irritation and suspicion.

Glancing mocha eyes to the shorter man beside him, Shizuo lifts his cigarette back to his lips; talking around it as he smokes.

"I wanted to know how you're doing."

The brunet stops in his tracks, narrowed scarlet gaze suspicious and unfriendly. Shizuo stops with him, smoking idly to keep his nerves settled and the darker man opposite of him is anything less than amused.

"I'm doing spectacular, thank you for asking," came a bitterly sarcastic response.

"Your eye is looking better," Shizuo murmurs around his cigarette, choosing instead to breach the subject outright, rather than feign ignorance. The stranger's expression doesn't so much as falter, and the blond can't help but mentally commend the man on how well he'd crafted his mask. He wishes he had that level of stoicism.

There is a brief pause between them, the brunet staring at him with an unreadable expression that borders on contempt, before he moves to walk on, uninterested in continuing the conversation between them. Again, Shizuo follows at his side.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Stranger asks, and his voice, however smooth, is laced with a bitter indifference.

"Uh, no... I don't have to work for another three hours," he says, repeating an earlier notion.

"You work at the bookstore." It is a statement, not a question.

"I work at the bookstore," Shizuo states if only for the confirmation. He almost wants to feel a bit happy with himself at managing to maintain his talking with the man, even though it was so obviously strained on both of them. Shizuo suspected that the stranger doesn't like the idea of associating with someone whom could see through him so easily; while not with his masks, but with the main secret he was trying to hide.

Letting out a huff of breath, the brunet halts his steps once more, rounding in on the blond whilst trying to keep his expression completely neutral. "Honestly, why are you still following me?"

Shizuo stares at him wordlessly for a moment before reaching up to pull the cigarette from his mouth. He's feeling anxious again; nervous, but he knows that the subject has to be confronted by both of them eventually.

"Because," he starts, gesturing towards the faded bruising on the brunet's face. "I... uh, I know what you're going through." Shizuo looks down, his chest tightening a bit as scarlet eyes glare in warning. "I know, because... I've been through it all, myself."

When he looks back up, the others gaze hasn't softened at all with his words; he looks even more callous than before.

"Is that so?" Stranger asks with a slight scoff. "Forgive me, but you don't have a fucking clue what you're talking about." The words are biting, clipped, without waiting for a response that will no doubt set him off, the brunet turns and starts back from the direction they had came. His steps are less than casual, giving way to the hint that he didn't want to associate with him anymore.

Cursing softly to himself, Shizuo jogged to reach the other once more as he tossed his cigarette onto the asphalt. "Wait – wait," he asserts, raising his hands in a placating manner, trying to get the man to stop. The brunet maintains his annoyance, but does as requested.

Shizuo stands still, opens his mouth as if he wants to say something but the words won't come out. The knot in his chest is drawing tighter and he's nerves are fraying on end.

"I know," he settles on saying. "Believe me I do."

The silence is uncanny, and the brunet doesn't look any more enlightened than he did before. He's still looking at Shizuo like the blond is untrustworthy and suspicious, but he doesn't say anything more because he doesn't have to. Shizuo grips one hand into a fist, looking excessively uncomfortable as he raises his shirt just enough to show a strip of skin on his abdomen; exposing to light the jagged, raised, deep scars on tan skin. Scarlet eyes stare calmly at the marks before flicking up the meet the owners gaze in question.

"Dad took a strip of barbed-wire to me when I was twelve," Shizuo states, offhandedly as he pulls the material back down. They stare at each other with a quiet understanding; the brunet's gaze a little less cautious than before.

"...My name is Izaya."

"I'm Shizuo."

Izaya raises his hand out between them; an offering in proper greeting, and the blond takes without hesitance. Their handshake is rather loose and unusual, but the brunet has a strong, confidant grip. Neither of them are smiling.

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sorry. i'm still writing on it, just a little slower, is all.

please, though; review. it keeps me working and writing.


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